Zacharie Knows Least
by The Amazing Anigirl
Summary: Nothing remains except a gray world and the regrets of the few who remain, and if it weren't for Zacharie it might not be that way. One shot. Sequel to 'The Player Knows Best'.


Hey ho, official OFF fanatics! I return with the sequel to my last one-shot for OFF, _The Player Knows Best._ Before you read this, be sure to go back and read that one (and leave a review, of course!)

For now, let's dive right in.

* * *

"Nice strings, Pablo."

The aforementioned feline turned its dejected eyes upwards, meeting the gaze of a man in a cat mask with a heavy backpack of now-useless goods weighing him down. The Judge, known as 'Pablo' only to his friends and family (both of which he lacked), was sitting on the tracks of Zone 1. In former times, in more colorful times, more _lively times,_ doing such a thing would be considered suicidal. But there were no more people to travel on the tracks, and thus he didn't have anything to fear.

Not that he would especially care if a train ran him over at this point. It might be considered a blessing, in fact.

But Zacharie spoke with an infuriating chuckle and the emptiness within the Judge's heart became a flame of anger. He almost wanted to lash out and claw the merchant's mask right off, then give him a few scars for good measure, but doing so would be improper and pointless.

Zacharie cringed a bit when his old friend gave him a venomous glare. The merchant had expected his friend to be happy or at least surprised to see him, but the feline was in a foul mood and his presence wasn't helping matters. The cat turned away, his ears flattening in a childish manner (Zacharie faintly recalled Pablo doing that as a kitten that when Valerie did something annoying: it was his equivalent of a pout).

The merchant wondered if the Player perhaps had something to do with the Judge's anger, but when he examined Pablo's strings closely he noted that there were no tugs or bursts of energy: the Player was either gone, having abandoned the gray world and his/her/its newest puppet, or was simply inactive. Either way, Pablo's resentment was completely his own.

The merchant slowly sat down beside the feline, who turned his face away and refused to utter a word or even look at him. Zacharie knew better than to blab when Pablo was in such a state. He remained silent and waited for the feline to cool down enough to tell him what was the matter.

Aside from the obvious 'madman-destroyed-the-world-and-a-bird-stole-my-brother's-body-resulting-in-his-untimely-death'. _That_ Zacharie could understand. Why Pablo was angry with _him_ specifically, however, was a mystery he would find out soon enough.

Or not. Zacharie was patient, and it wasn't as though he had much to do now. No customers to serve…except perhaps that one Elsen in Zone Two that had somehow managed to avoid being purified. Maybe the Secretaries needed wares…?

Before Zacharie could think too much about whether it would be sane or prudent to start selling to gray creatures of the Nothingness, Pablo huffed and spoke at last.

"Remove that preposterous visor, Zacharie…unless, of course, your shame forbids you from revealing your face to this empty landscape."

Zacharie looked at the feline and tilted his head to the side, refusing to even place a hand on his precious mask.

"I changed the mask for your sake," said Zacharie, "I knew you were under the weather…"

"You changed it for the sake of a maniacal madman, so that he would not lack assistance while I was in mourning. _That_ is why your mask is designed to resemble me, and I consider it an offensive outrage. I'll repeat my request since you seem too dense to heed it the first time: remove your mask."

Zacharie actually debated doing so. It wasn't as though there were people around to hide from, after all, and perhaps it would cheer Pablo up just a bit. But the merchant couldn't bring himself to take off the mask and reveal his face to even a single living life form. He shook his head.

"Not if you're looking," he said. "I'll replace it, but you have to shut your eyes."

"Do you truly consider yourself so hideous? In my earnest opinion, dear Zacharie, it is the deeds and not the face that makes you repulsive."

"Look away or I keep the mask on."

"Very well," sighed the Judge, turning his face away from the merchant, perking up his ears as he heard Zacharie rummage through his backpack, grunt once or twice in aggravation when he failed to find his old Toad mask, and chuckle cheerfully when he finally managed to unearth it. Zacharie took a few seconds to hastily take off the cat mask and tie his old mask around his face.

"You can look now, Pablo."

The Judge did so and turned just in time to see Zacharie shove the grinning cat mask into his backpack. The Judge almost found himself cringing when he looked at the mask: it had clearly been completed in a rush, and to the Judge it looked more like Valerie when he was in a bad mood…

But the merchant hid the mask inside of his backpack and the Judge shook his head to force his brother's face out of his mind. Dwelling on such somberness would do him no good right now.

"Better?" asked Zacharie. The feline let out a low hiss.

"You could disguise yourself with the visage of an angel, dear Zacharie, and it would not change what you have done."

"All right," huffed Zacharie, at last beginning to lose his almost impeccable patience, "explain: why are you mad at me? I left you be, I came to talk to you, I changed the mask…what's wrong? Is the Player…?"

"The Player has not guided my steps or my tongue since our battle with the vile Batter," said Pablo.

"You don't seem upset about that, but I also don't see you trying to rip the Player's strings off. If you are going to be mad, be mad at the Player: the Player's the one that led the Batter to the ending."

"True, but the Player could claim enough sense and morality by the end to turn on the Batter and keep him from destroying this dismal land…you, on the other hand, helped him to the very end."

Zacharie smiled behind his mask and chuckled. "And?" he said. "That is my job: I'm the simple merchant that is in every video…"

"You sold this world for credits. You sold all of us…for credits…"

Though the Judge could not see it, Zacharie frowned.

"Credits…bah!" said Zacharie with a shrug. "They're really a formality…it's not as if I didn't have money, I run an amusement park…hm…wonder if the statue's still…"

"Then you sacrificed us for nothing. Worse than base selfishness. And to think I had once considered you to be a wise and gentle soul…where is the Zacharie that coddled us as kittens and hid us from specters and monsters?"

"I'm right here," sighed Zacharie, his heart sinking slightly as he recalled being younger, a child, and stumbling across a duo of kittens while wandering about Zone One…taking them to Zone 0…giving them milk…getting annoyed when they clawed at his wares…

He shook his head. Implanted memories created by a scriptwriter to give his character sympathy points. No need to get all emotional.

But it still hurt, script or no script, knowing that one of those kittens was lost to the story and the other seemed sickened by his mere presence.

"Not so," said the Judge, "The Zacharie that raised Valerie and I was astute and compassionate…it would take a shrewd mind to keep me in check and a kind heart to deal with some of my brother's more foolish antics…" He paused, sighed, and then snarled, "You are not that Zacharie. The Zacharie of my youth would have never assisted a man like the Batter knowing what he was…"

The cat turned its fiery eyes on the merchant and hissed, "But you knew-and do not pretend that you did not-what the Batter intended. I confess my foolishness in not realizing what he was, in offering him my aid, but you do not have the excuse of naiveté, Zacharie."

"All I did was sell him wares," snapped Zacharie. "I didn't…"

"Indeed: the same wares he used to kill the Queen…"

"I…"

"The same wares he used to end the life of an innocent, sickly child."

"That wasn't…"

"The same wares he used to end Sugar…"

"Pablo...!"

"And you didn't even react to her death, did you? You ignored it, you let him carry on, even when he approached with his bat-the bat you gave him for useless credits-soaked in her blood…"

"ENOUGH!"

He had half a mind to grab the Judge by the tail and swing him to and fro until the feline became so dizzy that he ceased to misbehave. That was how he had punished Pablo and Valerie as kittens, but only rarely. Normally they didn't misbehave, and even when they performed little sins he had rarely been able to bring himself to harm the little kittens. They were just too lovable to punish most of the time…and poor Pablo…for a moment he flattened his ears and wound his tail around his body when Zacharie lost his composure and screamed.

In that moment, Zacharie could imagine the little kitten sitting in front of him, gazing up at him with surprised regret, but the merchant shook his head. Lines. Script lines. Character development and emotional manipulation. Nothing more, nothing less.

But it still hurt, especially when the Judge's momentary kitten-like fright faded and his anger returned.

"He would have never been able to do any of this," said the Judge, waving with one paw towards the gray landscape, "were it not for your _wares_. You might have sabotaged him, refused to sell, or simply stood by and let a specter be his doom. But you swept in and saved him with your _wares_. You doomed us…including Valerie…"

"Japhet had already…"

"But we might have found some way to save him…had the Batter not purified him before then."

"We wouldn't have. The script…"

"We might have," the Judge simply said again, turning away from Zacharie and standing up, stretching as though he had just taken a long nap. Zacharie recalled how Pablo and Valerie had used to insist on cuddling up to him when it was time for bed. He hadn't needed any sort of alarm clock: the energetic kittens and their bouncing had been enough of a wake-up call every morning. When they got older they had also gotten more laid-back and lethargic, and he and the cats often found themselves sleeping long into the afternoon, somehow always managing to wake up and stretch in unison.

He missed those days, scripted as they were. And, though he was code and ink and nothing more, he missed Valerie. He would have been fully willing to go back and play the game a trillion more times if it meant saving him somehow.

"I have a role, Pablo," Zacharie sighed, drumming his fingers on the track, "I'm a merchant: I sell to the main character. The Batter was the main character. His quest was bad, but I had a _role._ After all…" he gave a humorless chuckle, "this is all a video game."

The Judge was already walking away from the merchant, but he paused to gloomily glance at Zacharie.

"Perhaps," sad Pablo, "but it was real to us."

* * *

This one is more dialogue-heavy…but that's to be expected. I mean, last time we were focusing on the character that never had a line (The Player) and the player whose mode of speech is comparable to that of an impatient librarian (Seriously, did the Batter EVER speak more than two or three sentences at a time?) This time we're focusing on arguably the two most vocal folks in the game.

I'd love to know what you guys think! Please review! And remember: if you're a fan of Hetalia, go check out my story, _The Boy Who Lived!_ If you're a fan of Five Nights at Freddy's, go check out my story _A Story Ever Vile!_

Thanks for reading!


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